


Cereal

by andprosper



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 20:51:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1318780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andprosper/pseuds/andprosper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a vicious attack leaves psychoanalytical consultant Draco Malfoy without a portion of his memory, Auror Harry Potter finds himself presumed to be Malfoy's best friend.</p><p>Undergoing rewrite.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: mentions/aftermath of rape. The scene is not written, but the story is recounted.

Harry got the call well into the night. A victim of possible wizard violence. He rushed from the fireplace and threw on the clothes he had set aside for these occasions. He apparated quickly from his home and appeared in a dark street, just five feet away from a healer. “Crime scene tape” blocked off that part of the street, though it contained wards to keep muggles away and to keep anyone outside the tape from seeing anything other than an empty street. It was temporary, moveable, and brilliant, in Harry’s opinion. And necessary, seeing as how many crimes weren’t contained to only Wizarding Britain. Harry approached a healer just as they finished levitating the victim onto a stretcher. “What do we have?”

“Victim’s still alive, but just barely. Caucasian male, but that’s all I can tell you.”

Harry could see why. The victim had been reduced to barely more than a blood pulp. His face was smashed beyond even being recognizable as human and the rest of his body seemed to be in the same condition, though Harry didn’t get a chance for a good look as the healers covered up the victim’s nude body with a sheet for decency’s sake. The healers apparated from the scene and when the scene cleared away, Harry spotted his partner.

“Still at the ministry when I got the call,” Ron commented grimly as he approached. Without another word they both apparated, leaving the damp street behind and appearing in the emergency wing of St. Mungo’s, a privilege afforded to healers and aurors only. “No name for the victim,” he continued as if they hadn’t just appeared in the white tiled halls of the casualty ward. “Only one witness, a Mrs. Cottonswald, 83, muggle.”

“How do we know this is a wizarding crime?” Harry asked, having seen none of the usual indicators. Normally they were able to identify crimes under their jurisdiction by the injuries sustained or the identity of the victim. But this brutal attack didn’t look magic in nature and the victim was unidentified.

“Mrs. Cottonswald claims she heard a noise outside and saw a cloaked figure dumping a body, then it disappeared into thin air. Not our strongest lead, I’ll admit, little old lady looking out on a dark street, but we’ve gone on less.”

“You interviewed her?” Harry was extremely impressed – he’d thought he’d gotten to the crime scene a lot faster than that.

“No. She said so in her 999 call,” all of which were monitored for keywords that might indicate a magical crime. “I had a quick listen before I went to the scene. I thought it was a body dump. I didn’t realize the poor bloke was still alive until I got there. I had alerted the coroner,” he seemed a little bothered by the mistake. “But I contacted St. Mungo’s right away and tried to stem the flow of blood.” Harry could see the guilt etched on Ron’s face.

“That’s what the emergency call sounded like. There was barely a delay between your arrival and the healer’s arrival.”

Ron sighed heavily and nodded. “I know. I just,” he pressed his lips together, “hope he doesn’t die.”

“Me, too,” Harry agreed and walked over to the nurse’s station. “You go interview Mrs. Cottonswald – see if there is any information a muggle wouldn’t think to mention to police. I’ll stay here.”

Ron didn’t argue and apparated from the ward. Harry found out which room the victim had been taken to and waited in a chair just outside. Healers and nurses were constantly moving in and out of the room, but Harry didn’t stop to bother them – he would find a moment to talk to them when the patient was stable. In the next few hours, Ron reappeared from the interview with nothing to report other than Mrs. Cottonswald really needed to stop feeding her dog toffees. Harry encouraged Ron to go home and get some sleep, which he grudgingly agreed to. Another auror, who was tending to a case on the floor above, stopped and talked to him for a very brief moment about going to a coworker’s engagement party. But, for the most part, Harry sat in silence outside of the room, watching healers in blood-stained lime robes rushing past.

“Harry?” He heard a soft voice ask and he raised his head to see Cho walking out of his victim’s room, pulling her mask down from her face. Her robes were covered in blood, but her hands were clean, probably from where she had removed her gloves. Noticing his gaze, she flicked her wand and a vanishing spell disappeared the red from her robes. “Are you the auror for this case?”

“Yes,” Harry smiled at her politely and stood from his seat. “Can you tell me anything?”

Cho nodded, but walked past Harry and opened the door to the empty room next to them. She flicked the card, so it indicated the room was in use and shut the door behind them when Harry entered. “I prefer to discuss this in private,” she explained and Harry nodded in response.

“What can you tell me?”

“Still no ID, but we’re pretty sure he’s in your jurisdiction,” at Harry’s raised eyebrow, Cho explained, “we found evidence of old injuries that had been healed by magical ways and evidence of magic injuries. So he’s related to the Wizarding World in some way, but I can’t tell you whether he’s a wizard, squib, or if he’s a muggle with a magical spouse or family member.”

“Well, right now, with what little we have to go on, it’s good to know he’s clearly within Wizarding jurisdiction. Was magic used on him at all?”

“Right now it’s difficult to say. The brutalization to his body seems to have been all done by hand, but we’re running screens on his blood now to see if there is any evidence of potions or drugs in his system. We also should be able to give you identification when our reconstructive specialist comes in. He should be here soon. I did what I could, but it takes an expert to reconstruct someone’s face without knowing what he’s supposed to look like,” Cho sighed heavily, leaning against the bed in the room. “We can tell you he’s Caucasian, male, likely in his twenties, probably blonde, light colored eyes.”

“Probably?”

 “Whoever did this to him likely didn’t want him to be recognized. His hair was completely shaved, but his eyebrow and body hair color indicates a blonde. Busted capillaries in his eyes are making it difficult to tell exact eye color, but they’re blue or gray. We’ve got a healer working on that now, perhaps make it easier to ID him, before the reconstructive doctor gets here.”

“Can you tell me what happened to him?”

Cho nodded solemnly. “Days like these make it difficult to be a healer,” she tapped her wand on the wall screen, which showed a non-descript human figure. “Most of his ribs were fractured,” she used the figure as a visual aid. “Judging by the bruising that’s starting to form and the way the ribs are broken, I’m guessing he was brutalized with a fist. Possibly from being kicked or stomped, as well. Bruising on his wrists and ankles suggests he was bound with rope, but I couldn’t tell you if it was a binding spell or not. Both wrists had hairline fractures, probably from trying to escape. He had a punctured lung and contusions to the abdomen and genitals. Harry,” Cho paused suddenly and turned from the screen to face him, “have you ever worked a rape case?”

“He was raped?”

Cho nodded slowly in response. “Brutally. And probably before everything else. He wouldn’t have lasted long with the injuries to his face and the punctured lung constraining his breathing, but he would have likely bled out within hours. We had to do emergency reconstructive surgery. He would have been weak and unable to fight back afterwards.” Harry ran a hand over his face and sighed deeply. Finally, he waved his hand for Cho to continue. “I’m sorry, but there were no fluids. We did find some wood splinters. We’ll get them to your office as soon as possible. It is very likely he was raped with a foreign object, considering the extent of the damage and puncturing. The injuries to his face and head were rather severe. He could have suffered some brain damage. We’ll do our best to repair it, but these things can be tricky. There is a very real possibility he won’t remember anything about his attack,” she paused. “Does your department have anything like a psychoanalyst or criminal psychologist? That might be the best way to approach it without the victim’s memory.”

Harry almost groaned aloud, but he just nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, we do,” he sucked in a deep breath, trying to clear his mind. He loved his career for making the world a little safer and when he put criminals away, but dealing with the victims… “Draco Malfoy,” he said quickly, to push those thoughts away.

“Draco Malfoy? How did that happen?” Cho asked, surprise clear on her expression.

“Ron had the idea to use former and reformed Death Eaters to help us track down the rest that went into hiding. Most of them were bollocks at it, but we got lucky with Malfoy. He was…really good, actually,” Harry admitted. “He could tell us where he thought they would go, when evidence was left behind, he had a pretty good idea of who it was. Then he started showing up for other cases, trouncing around like a prat and showing us all up. Head of the department thought we should keep him on.”

“Well, you should probably get Malfoy down here, then. This bastard is sick.”

“All right. Thank you, Cho,” Harry told her, not at all shocked by her words, and pulled his phone from his pocket. It had taken some convincing by a muggleborn to get police phones. But it was just too frustrating to find a floo or send an owl or patronus in an emergency, especially when they were chasing down Death Eaters. Cho left the room and Harry followed her, but stopped in the hallway. “Ron? How soon can you get here?”

“Now,” Harry heard Ron’s voice behind him and dropped his phone back into his pocket.

“You really like doing that, don’t you?”

Ron shrugged, smiling a bit. “Maybe I do.”

“Ron,” Harry looked at his partner seriously. “Our victim was raped.”

Ron’s shoulders slumped and he seemed to immediately clam up, his hands going in his pockets and rocking on his heels. “Right,” he looked down at the ground, nodding absentmindedly. “Right. Okay,” he looked back up at Harry after a long sigh. “That’s…uhh…well…that’s…what do you want to do now?”

“The healer suggested bringing in Malfoy.”

Ron’s expression set darkly. “No. We’re not doing that.” He was dead certain.

“Ron, I know you don’t like Malfoy, but-“

“You don’t seriously think that’s what this is about?” Ron was glaring at him now. “Harry, there is no way we’re letting Malfoy anywhere near a rape victim. He is a complete arse. Can you imagine what he’ll do to that guy? The things he’d say to him? He’ll probably blame him!”

Harry knew how he was, though he wouldn’t agree with Ron about the extent of Malfoy’s… arseholery? In fact, Malfoy had been actually quite a relief when Harry… But he understood where Ron was coming from. “We’re not going to let Malfoy talk to him directly. He just can give us a better idea of what we’re dealing with. Cho says we might not get any leads from the victim.”

“All right. I’ll get Macmillan to drag his ass down to the office,” Ron conceded in defeat and started walking away, still clearly peeved by the idea.

“Ron, you know Malfoy isn’t that bad.”

“Do I?” Ron turned around as he was walking and raised his arms in a large shrug. He then disappeared around the corner. Harry ran a hand through his hair and glanced back at the room door. He could understand why Ron was hesitant about letting Malfoy interact with victims – he didn’t have a social finesse, but Harry trusted him enough to at least not be so abrasive with victims. A healer stode past hi, deep in conversation with Cho Chang. He was a much older man, but only graying at the temples. The two walked through the door to the victim’s room together and Harry peered into the room behind them when the door swung open. The victim was laying prone on the bed, sheets tucked up to his chest. He was significantly cleaner, but Harry still couldn’t bear to look at his smashed in face. He looked down at the recently healed wounds on his wrists and at his hands. He had beautiful hands.

“I’ll make this right.”

**

The office was extremely busy when he arrived. It had been a while since a big case. There were domestic problems often, but most of the high profile cases disappeared when the last of the Death Eaters were rounded up. Harry and Ron were the primaries on the case, but most of the office was working on it now – keeping in contact with St. Mungo’s, working on gathering suspects on what little information they had, and searching for witnesses. Harry peered around the room, noticing an extreme lack of an obnoxious Slytherin, who usually made his presence known. He walked over to an exasperated looking Ron, who was on the phone. “Where’s Malfoy?”

“Do I look like I know? No one can find him!” He snapped his phone closed angrily. “Probably took some impromptu getaway to Milan or something.”

“Auror Weasley?” A small voice piped up from somewhere behind Harry’s shoulder.

“Yes, Young?”

“I think we’ve found Malfoy, sir,” the trainee informed him and Harry turned. Young looked quite peaky.

“Yeah? Where is that bastard?”

“St. Mungo’s, sir.”

Ron and Harry exchanged glances.

**

The pair was standing at the end of the bed, looking at the newly reconstructed face of their victim. “What do we do now?” Ron said heavily.

“You’re the one who’s worked rape cases before. Just treat him like any of the other victims,” Harry suggested to him. Harry and Ron had been partners for awhile, but when first entering the force, they had worked with more senior aurors. Harry had been partnered with someone who specialized in hunting down dark wizards, but Ron had chosen to focus more on the victims of war than the perpetrators. After losing his brother, Harry couldn’t blame him. Catching dark wizards was important, but so was helping the victims – those who were hurt and those who lost friends and family.

“I’ll do my best. I just don’t know how he’ll react.”

“Harry? Ron?”

“Good to see you again, Cho, just wish it were under better circumstances,” Ron greeted the healer as she walked into the small, private room.

“So do I. I can wake him now if you’d like,” Cho offered and Ron nodded. At Malfoy’s beside, she murmured an incantation and waved her wand over his limp form. “Mr. Malfoy?” Her voice even softer and more gentle than usual as his eyes fluttered open, “You’re at St. Mungo’s. I’m Healer Chang. There are two aurors here who would like to talk to you. Is that all right?”

“Of course,” Harry could barely hear Draco’s raspy voice. “I’m an auror, too,” he lifted his head slightly and visibly grimaced. “Auror Potter, Auror Weasley. What happened?” Ron and Harry exchanged glances at the odd addresses he gave them. “Did something go wrong? We were working a case?”

As Cho backed away, waiting near the door of the room with her clipboard in her hands, Ron moved in, sitting in the doctor’s seat. “Malfoy, you were attacked.”

“Yeah, no, I figured that, Auror Weasley,” Malfoy replied in a mocking tone and tried to sit up straighter, but Harry watched his face contort in pain. He fell back on the bed and gripped the sheets tightly. “Attacked?” He whispered, much more hoarsely this time. “Attacked how?” Harry could see the pain and realization dawning on his face.

“You were raped,” Ron replied in a quiet, steady voice.

Draco lifted his head, looking straight at Ron. “I was-“ he pressed his lips together. “I was raped?” His voice wavered slightly, but he seemed to be trying to keep it under control. “Who did it?”

“We don’t know. Do you remember anything about your attack?”

Malfoy shook his head rapidly, looking more vulnerable than Harry had ever seen him. “No,” he brought his hand up to his face and covered his eyes with his hand. “I don’t- I- umm… Last I remember…uhh…” he dropped his hand, his voice shook. “I was getting coffee like I always do. Curse that muggle drink, you know,” he laughed a bit, but it was humorless.

“And what time was that?”

“Ummm…” his voice wavered again and he shut his eyes. “It was just after work around seven?”

“Where?”

“At that coffee shop ‘round the corner.” He seemed to take comfort in the distraction of the questions. “Java Joe’s or something of the sort? I never paid much attention to the sign.”

“Anything after that?”

“No. I went to the counter and ordered. I waited for them to make the drink and walked out of the shop. I was going to find a place to apparate home, but… I don’t remember anything after that. I don’t remember apparating. I don’t remember anything after I stepped out of that shop. What…what was done to me?”

Harry shifted uncomfortably on his feet, but didn’t say anything, so far letting Ron lead the conversation, but Ron shifted his gaze to him. Harry responded by looking confused, so Ron continued. “Harry has been here the whole time. He can better tell you what happened.” Malfoy looked up at Harry expectantly, fearfully.

“Well,” Harry started nervously. Did Ron want him to tell Malfoy the truth? All of it? “You were bound by the wrists and ankles,” when he hesitated, Ron subtly waved his hand for Harry as encouragement. “You were raped and tortured,” he would give him the simplest, easiest version possible. “And then you were dumped in Muggle London.”

This seemed to be enough for Malfoy, who let out a long breath and clenched his fists. “Can I have some time alone?”

“Yes,” Ron, Harry, and Cho left the room to give Malfoy privacy.  

Cho, though expression clearly sad, kept her professional tone. “Does Mr. Malfoy have any close friends or relatives I could contact?”

“Umm…” Harry pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I’m going back to the office, see if we have any leads,” Ron clapped him on the arm and walked down the hall after Harry nodded. After a moment of thought, he turned back to Cho.

“His father’s in Azkaban. Mother’s in the wind.”

“Friends?”

“Not really. Not anymore.”

“I’m hoping I could find someone who would know him well enough to check different aspects of his memory for accuracy,” she frowned, disappointed. “Do you know of anyone who knows him well enough to do that?”

There really was only one answer for that now. “Me.”

Cho raised her eyebrows in surprise, but she didn’t voice it. “I’m going to give him some time alone for now. But maybe in a few hours, we can go over some tests. Where can I contact you?”

“Here,” Harry said firmly and sat down in the chair he had stayed in for hours earlier.

“Do aurors usually stick so close to victims?”

“Well, it would seem I’m the closest thing Malfoy has to a friend.”


	2. Part Two

Malfoy’s memory was oddly spotty. He remembered things like working cases and being with the auror’s office. He seemed to remember most of his childhood, but how accurately, Harry couldn’t be sure. It could have been inaccurate, for all he knew, considering how spotty and wrong his memories of their school years were. He remembered people – he remembered he and Harry had gone to school together, but relationships and events much hazier. He knew Harry’s name, he knew he was a seeker, he knew that he was in Gryffindor, and that he defeated the Dark Lord. When asked about classmates who he hadn’t seen since, he got them right – Justin Finch-Fletchley was a Hufflepuff, Marcus Flint was Quidditch team captain. But Draco was oddly blank on his own life. He couldn’t remember his own house or which year he was in relative to anyone else. He could tell them the relationships between other people, but no one to him.

“He seems to be experiencing a form of dissociative memory loss,” Cho was telling him outside of Malfoy’s room after a long questioning session. “It’s a side effect of a botched Obliviation.”

“So a wizard committed these crimes?”

“Yes, seems to be.”

“But, I don’t understand,” Harry rubbed his eyes underneath his glasses. “How can he remember things like that he attended Hogwarts, but not what house he was in?”

“His mind is probably supplying the information. The cognitive parts of his mind aren’t impaired. They’re filling in the empty spaces based on the information he has from the memory. As for the Hogwarts bit in particular, could very well be that his mind remembers or he just used logic. He doesn’t have to think about it. We never asked him about whether or not he attended Hogwarts, we just start asking about life there and his mind never has to reach back and search for that memory. But I’m not a memory specialist. We have doctors who specialize in fixing Oblivate effects and we’ll get them in here to work with him.”

“Thank you, Cho,” he bade her goodbye and returned to Malfoy’s room.

“Auror Potter, anymore questions to ask? You’d better hurry. Healer Chang gave me a sleeping draught,” Malfoy was looking at him hazily now, seeming a lot calmer than before. 

“I just wanted to check on you. See if you remember anything else about your attack.”

“No,” Malfoy sighed heavily, laying his head on the pillow. “Nothing. It’s still completely blank. I trust you and Auror Weasley will treat this incident with discretion?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you,” Malfoy’s voice was getting softer and his words more slurred. “I don’t know what I would do if anyone found out about this. If my father…” Malfoy’s eyes were closed and his breathing shallow and steady. After satisfied Malfoy’s sleep was calm and dreamless, Harry left the hospital room and apparated back to the office.

**

“We’ve got no leads,” Ron was pacing in the office, scratching his chin. He slapped a file down on the desk, walking past Harry, who was seated. “We’ve got nothing to go on. No witnesses. No evidence. And we don’t have our analyst or whatever his job title is,” Ron gripped his hair in frustration and Harry could tell he just wanted to slam his head down onto the desk.

“Okay, then we need to look at this another way. Cho said Malfoy would be helpful on this case…before we knew the victim was Malfoy, of course. Why don’t we ask Malfoy to analyze his attack?”

“You want to ask a rape victim to psychologically profile his own rape?” Ron was staring at Harry incredulously, positively mortified at his suggestion. “I know you didn’t work with victims in your trials, Harry, but this is a completely new level of stupid.”

“Ron, what do you think Malfoy wants? Do you think he wants to keep being babied like a victim or do you think he wants to see his attacker in Azkaban?”

“Regardless, Malfoy is completely bonkers. He can’t think straight after an attack like that! Half of his memory is missing!”

“But the important half is still intact. To him, he’s just Malfoy the criminal psychologist and that’s the Malfoy we need right now.”

“You’re never going to get him to agree to it.”

**

“Yes,” Malfoy looked up at them both from his hospital bed.

“What?” Ron’s eyes were narrowed in disbelief

“I’ll do it.”

“You want to work your own case?”

“Was I not clear, Auror Weasley?” Malfoy frowned. “Or did they lower auror standards to include complete morons?”

“Well, I see the Malfoy charm is still intact,” Ron rolled his eyes.

“Course it is, you git. Memory loss, not personality change,” he threw off his blanket and started to stand.

“You should probably stay in bed,” Harry warned.

“Don’t baby me. I’m fine,” Malfoy waved him away and got to his feet, a move he seemed to quickly regret as he doubled over in pain. “Bloody fucking fuck,” he hissed and leaned against the bed.

“I swear,” Ron turned to Harry, muttering under his breath, “scratched by a hippogriff and he acts like the world is ending, but he gets nearly beaten to death and he acts like he fell of his training broom.”

“Hearing works, too, Auror Weasley,” Malfoy was back on the bed now, breathing a bit shallow. “Can I just talk to Auror Potter in private, please?” Ron glanced at Harry, who nodded shortly that it would be okay, and then left the room. “Thank goodness he’s gone. I can tell there’s no love lost between me and Auror Weasley. No way I would have tolerated that idiot,” he was saying, but Harry simply kept his mouth shut. Malfoy looked up at Harry from his place on the bed, wincing slightly. “But I can tell you and I are friends.”

“You can?” Harry asked curiously, cautiously, completely baffled. He didn’t openly refute the thought yet. He wanted to find out why Malfoy thought so. Call it curiosity.

“What? Now my friend’s going to start treating me like a baby? I can tell we’re close. I mean, you didn’t leave the outside of my room the whole time I was in surgery. You’ve been sticking around even when you didn’t have to. You were the one Healer Chang asked to help with my memories. From all the things you knew about me in school, we had to be close. And you’re the only person around here who actually seems to know me. You’re not babying me like Auror Weasley or treating me like an idiot. Someone who knows all about me, knows how to interact with me, and hasn’t left my side? You’ve got to be my best friend, right? Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Well, you know…this is a case…Draco,” he forced himself to use Malfoy’s first name. “And Healer Chang said to be careful because you could go into shock…” Harry hated himself for playing along. He knew he shouldn’t. Malfoy would know everything once he got his memory back. And what good was it doing? But, knowing that the only person close enough to Malfoy to correctly identify memories was his childhood rival and current estranged coworker just hurt. Malfoy looked so vulnerable and in pain in his ugly hospital gown, dressings still wrapping various parts of his body, face still red from spellwork, head unevenly shaven against his will. Malfoy didn’t have anyone to go to. He needed someone.

“Okay. Well, could you get some clothes from home for me? And some money from my vault? The key’s in that lock box on the mantle in my room. You know the one,” Draco said, assuming Harry had been to his house. Right, because Harry was supposedly his best friend. “And can you buy a hat? One of those stupid knit ones. Until my hair grows back.”

“I could pick you up some of that hair grow potion,” Harry offered, but Draco frowned immediately.

“Tell me you’re kidding, Harry,” Harry felt his stomach jerk at the use of his first name. “Do you know the side effects of that stuff? You could have hair growing on your eyes! I’d rather wear an ugly hat for a few months.”

“All right.”

“And coffee.”

“Okay. You stay here,” he said and walked out of the hospital room. He headed down to the fireplaces and grabbed a fistful of floo powder. “Malfoy Manor!” He declared and appeared in the fireplace of Malfoy Manor’s dining room. He was surprised there were no defenses to keep people from entering by floo – unless Malfoy left his floo open for people from the auror’s department. The place caused chills to run up his spine, but he shook it off, preferring to ignore memories in favor of his quest. Where would Malfoy’s bedroom be, though? Would he even know it when he saw it? He spent fifteen minutes peering into rooms before he decided he’d found Malfoy’s room. Most of them were too dusty to have been used recently. The bedroom that seemed to be in use wasn’t what he expected from Malfoy. It looked more like Harry’s bedroom – it was a disaster. The bed wasn’t made, dirty clothes were tossed about, dresser drawers were ajar, there was parchment scattered on the desk and floor, and there were papers and articles magically stuck to the wall. Harry walked by them, glancing at them as he went. They were related to crimes – the files on the desk and floor were their cases, mostly recent, while the ones on the wall seemed to be related to mostly cold cases. Harry almost expected them to be clippings of Malfoy’s solved cases and mentions in the papers. He was also surprised that the room wasn’t decorated in green and silver, like he’d always imagined. Not that he spent much time imagining what Malfoy’s bedroom looked like. It was decorated in deep and light blues. He walked over to Malfoy’s fireplace and grabbed a faded, dark green box off the mantle. He sat it down on the bed and opened it up. It had a woman’s silver ring, a few blank envelopes, and a key right on top. He picked and up and closed the box, then walked over to the wardrobe. He picked up a shirt he had seen Malfoy wear around the office, a pair of black slacks, and tried to avoid thinking to hard when he searched for socks and underwear. He grabbed a cloak hanging on a coat rack as well. He pulled his wallet from his pants pocket and stuffed the clothes inside, silently thanking Hermione for charming it – it had so many uses.

He returned to Diagon Alley and went to Gringott’s. He didn’t encounter much trouble since he had the key and collected some of the coins in the vast vault. The first place he stopped was Madam Malkin’s, looking for the ugly hat Malfoy had asked for. He picked out a simple black one, since it seemed the least offensive, and apparated to a coffee shop. He remembered a time when Malfoy was being particularly prattish and smacked the coffee out of a young trainee’s hand because it wasn’t correct, so he knew what Malfoy ordered. Practically the entire office knew what Malfoy ordered now.

Ron was waiting for him in the St. Mungo’s waiting room. “Where were you?” He approached him with an angry expression. “I’ve been trying to call!”

“Sorry. I must have not noticed.”

“You were out getting coffee?”

“It’s Malfoy’s,” Harry shrugged. “He asked.”

“It took you over an hour to get coffee?”

“Malfoy asked me to get him some clothes and money,” Harry was starting to feel defensive, but Ron seemed to back off.

“Sorry,” he said slowly and looked like he was thinking to himself. “You did the right thing. Seems we’re switching places now, huh? I’m trying to run down the perp and you’re helping the victim.”

“You always said that was just as important,” Harry smiled back at him as they started walking. “Ron…” he paused. “Malfoy thinks he and I are friends.”

“Why would he think that?”

“Well, I had to help Cho with his memory check because I was the closest thing he had to a friend, so he just…assumed and I didn’t correct him.”

“You realize if he gets his memory back, he’ll know-“

“I know, Ron,” Harry cut him off immediately, “but he needs a friend right now. Who would he have asked to get his things for him if he didn’t think I was some sort of friend? And, you know, maybe Malfoy wouldn’t be such a bad friend to have.” Ron shook his head at this statement, but didn’t say anything.

Shouts suddenly echoed through the hall and Ron and Harry started running towards them on instinct, Harry dropping Malfoy’s coffee on the way.  They burst into Malfoy’s room as the healers were trying to restrain him. He was off the bed, and backed against the wall. “I SAID DON’T TOUCH ME!” He was screaming hysterically.

“Draco,” Harry put his hands up calmly as he approached him, as if he would a frightened animal. “What’s going on?”

“Merlin,” Malfoy relaxed significantly and the two healers backed off. “What am I doing?” He was breathing heavily as he walked back to the bed and sat down. “I’m sorry,” he told the healers and looked up at Harry with a mixture of fear and pain in his eyes. “I was sleeping and someone touched me. Oh Merlin, I’ve gone crazy!” He covered his face with his hands and the healers left, promising to come back when he was calmer.

“It’s fine. I brought your clothes and money from Gringott’s. Sorry, I…dropped your coffee on the way here,” Harry said apologetically and handed him the clothes from his wallet.

“I’ll just get some later,” Malfou waved him off, but accepted the clothes. He took the hat and covered his shaved head. When Harry stepped back to give him space, Malfoy pulled the curtain around his bed and continued talking. “I talked to Healer Chang about what was done to me,” he took a deep breath and Harry turned his back when he heard clothes rustling, even though the curtain was opaque.

“You know, Malfoy, you don’t have to do this. If you change your mind-“

“I’m not changing my mind, Auror Weasley. Trust me, I want to find whoever did this to me. It would be easier if I could look at the victim in this as someone other than me.”

“Whatever you want,” Harry shrugged and turned around when he heard the curtains being pulled back. Draco was standing now, much better than before in his own clothes, but the bruises on his face and the look in his eyes said otherwise.

“Well, it seems the attack was very personally directed towards the victim. It took a lot of rage to torture someone like that and to beat them beyond recognition. Most people don’t take out rage like that on a stranger unless the stranger somehow reminds them of their rage – resembling someone or being a part of a hated group.”

Ron shifted uncomfortably on his feet next to Harry. Draco didn’t remember that particular aspect about himself and no one felt inclined to tell him.

“Or the attack was directed on the victim because that was their intended target and related to them personally. Especially shaving my- the victim’s head. That shows a very personal connection and could be related to sexual attraction.”

“Sexual attraction?” Ron repeated blankly.

“Yes, Auror Weasley.” His voice was business-like, detached. “I have a few guesses as to why someone would attack the victim, but seeing as the victim can’t tell you anything about himself, they’re very broad guesses. Like I said, the victim might have not even been related to the attacker, but became the object of his rage because of some connection the attacker made. My best guess, though? I think the attacker knew the victim and knew his schedule – when he would be alone. If he did get snatched between work and home, it was a very small window for a coincidence. The rape was motivated by anger – he took the victims wand and clothes with him and used unnecessary force. The attacker wanted to humiliate and express contempt for the victim. Since the victim isn’t some sort of high ranking official or exerts power over anyone, it would seem like the attacker was either someone the victim helped send to Azkaban, someone the victim may have rejected…or, since the victim is male,  the attacker could have found himself sexually attracted to the victim and reacted out of fear. Harry, have we been to any bars recently?”

“Uhh…what?” Harry was now the one confused.

“You’re my best friend and we’re both gay. You’re saying we never went looking for guys together?” It took a few long seconds for those words to sink in. Harry was gaping at Malfoy now. Malfoy was gay? No one had told him that! Most people were aware now that Harry Potter was gay. He came out to Ginny about two years after the war ended, finally ending their on-again-off-again relationship. She had been angry at first, but they’d become friends later. The Weasleys had been very supportive through coming out to more people, especially when it hit the papers. It had been well-known amongst his friends for several months, but the prophet must have caught wind of it from one of the guys his friends had set him up with. It was a rough year, dealing with critics and homophobia, but it had been a few years since then. He’d had no clue Malfoy was gay, but he’d kept his personal life very quiet since the war – from what Harry’d been able to tell, Malfoy didn’t have much of a personal life.

But didn’t it make sense? Harry had remembered, the day it hit the papers, how worried he had been going to work. He’d been particularly concerned about Malfoy’s reaction, since he had the most Potter-vindictive streak in the office. But when he’d gone into work, Malfoy was amongst the people who had simply stared at him. But his expression was different from the others – some were obviously surprised, some were disapproving, but Malfoy’s…he looked at Harry like he was seeing him in a new light – he looked curious, like he was considering Harry. In all actuality, Malfoy’s reaction had been the most comforting. After that initial day, when everyone started treating him differently – avoiding him, being overly supportive, suddenly becoming downright nasty – Malfoy had gone right back to being a huge prat. The only time he every brought up Harry’s sexuality to be critical was never an insult to his sexuality, but to other aspects: “Really, Potter, you’d think someone who was gay would know how to dress better,” “just make Potter interrogate her – he won’t be bothered by her pretty face,” “honestly, Potter, you’re the most eligible gay wizard in Britain and you’re going to sit at home alone on a Friday?” In retrospect, that last one seemed a bit odd out of context.

“Oh Merlin,” there was a sudden look of realization that crossed Malfo- Draco’s face. “Harry, are we together?”

“No!” Harry replied, almost too quickly and Draco sighed and covered his eyes.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to assume,” he chuckled humorlessly. “I can tell we’re just friends by your reaction. Am I seeing anyone?”

“No,” of that, Harry was… ninety percent sure. He saw Draco’s shoulders fall slightly and a look of disappointment cross his face.

“Guess I’m more of a career man, then,” he paused and then his face contorted. “If this gets out,” he turned pale and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“It won’t, Draco.”

“Can I leave here?” Draco asked.

“I’ll talk to the healers,” Ron offered, looking at Harry as he left.

“The office knows about this, don’t they?” Malfoy was still looking as white as a sheet when he looked at Harry.

“Yes,” he said quietly, scared of what the effect might be. “They know you were attacked. I don’t know if they know about the…details of the attack. I’ll try to keep them between the three of us. No one has to know what happened to you,” Harry sat down next to him, but Malfoy flinched violently when he put his hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

“Don’t!” He snapped and then let out a shaky breath. “Please don’t touch me.”

“Sorry,” Harry apologized and dropped his hand.

“What am I going to do, Harry? Why did this happen to me?” Harry could see tears in Draco’s eyes now and he brought his hands to his face. “What did I do wrong? I’m a good wizard. I should have been able to get rid of him easily.”

“Draco,” Harry felt so odd comforting Mal- Draco, “it wasn’t your fault. It was a wizard who attacked you. Were you expecting to be attacked while grabbing a coffee in Muggle London? He could have stunned you from behind.” Draco was looking thoughtfully down at his hands. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know it’s not my fault, Harry,” Draco snapped back. “I just can’t believe my life was ruined like that in a matter of hours.”

“Your life isn’t ruined, Draco. You’ll beat this.”

“My life isn’t ruined?! I can’t even remember my life!” He shouted, but Harry remained, undeterred. After several deep breaths, Draco was much calmer, “I need to be alone now, Harry.”

“All right. I hope you get out of here soon.”

“So do I.”


	3. Part Three

Malfoy was released to return home the next day, though against healer advisement, who wanted him to stay for psychological assessment, but he got very upset by the idea. Ron and Harry did their best to look into people Malfoy had helped them capture and send to Azkaban, but they were coming up empty-handed. Almost all of them were still in Azkaban. The ones who weren’t had never been, getting off on deals or committing crimes that only warranted a slap on the wrist, and therefore wouldn’t have much motive for revenge.

“It looks like we’re going to have to look into Malfoy’s personal life,” Ron suggested. “Look at old enemies, maybe. He may not have suggested the most obvious reason behind the attack because he doesn’t know about it.”

“You mean his involvement with the Death Eaters,” Harry looked across his desk at him.

“There are plenty of people who would have motive – Death Eaters or supporters who want revenge for Malfoy joining the aurors to hunt them down. Or people on the other side who don’t like what side he took during the war. I’ll try to narrow down Death Eaters and supporters to see who had motive enough. Since you and Malfoy are such good friends, you can look into his personal life. If we come up dry, I guess we’ll have to start looking at people on our side.”

Harry frowned. “The Death Eaters were the monsters, not us.”

“The people the Death Eaters hurt… killing friends, family, maiming and torturing… the Death Eaters are the monsters, but they could have created them,” Ron shook his head. “Even I want revenge for what was done to my family. It can be…more than a little frustrating to see Death Eaters get off.”

“But Malfoy wasn’t like them-“

“Not everyone sees in shades of gray. He’s got the mark on his arm,” Ron’s eyes widened suddenly while looking over Harry’s shoulder. Harry turned around to see Malfoy walking into the precinct, looking quite out of place when everyone turned to look at him. He seemed to manage to pick himself up and strode over to Harry and Ron’s desks, doing his best to appear completely unbothered, though he still wore the black hat Harry had bought for him. In fact, he was wearing the same clothes Harry had picked out for him. He really hoped he’d just chosen to wear the same outfit again and that he hadn’t been wearing the same clothes.

“I meant to tell you yesterday, Harry. You have terrible taste. I don’t know how you’re a gay man,” Draco scoffed as if nothing was wrong. “What are you looking at?!” He snapped at the rest of the room, who quickly averted their gazes and pretended to be busy. “I mean, this hat,” he was back to talking to Harry now. “Black wasn’t the worst color you could do, but the style?”

“You’re the one who said an ugly hat.”

“It didn’t mean I meant it!” Draco’s heart didn’t seem to be into the argument, but that was a situation they often found themselves in since Draco had joined in helping them. He had a tendency to argue for the sake of arguing. He didn’t know if this was a quirk of his or simply had to do with his former relationship with most of his colleagues. However, he quickly became very serious. “Do you have any suspects?”

“All the guys you’ve helped us catch either didn’t have much motive or are in Azkaban,” Ron repeated the information to him.

“The perfect alibi,” Malfoy nodded thoughtfully and leaned against the desk.

“Harry’s going to help go through your personal life and see if you can’t find someone who might have been your enemy. I’m going to be looking into any Death Eaters or supporters who might have motive.”

“Come on, Draco, let’s go somewhere more private,” Harry walked into the room usually reserved for talking to witnesses and victims, and Draco followed him. “We need to figure out who in your life might have had motive.”

“Why don’t you tell me?” Malfoy asked as he sat down, looking up at him with crossed arms.

“Draco, we may be friends, but we don’t really hang out with each other’s friends. I mean, you met Auror Weasley.”

“Yes,” he responded slowly, waiting for Harry to continue.

“You two obviously don’t get along, but you know he’s my friend. Our friendship exists in sort of a void…” Harry seemed to be doing an okay job of covering his back, though it was a struggle.

“Makes sense,” Draco’s shoulders slumped as he sighed. “I mean, we were probably the only gay guys in our whole year. I can understand why our friendship would have excluded the rest of our social groups.” Harry was still shocked that not only was Malfoy gay, but he seemed to be openly so. Then why didn’t it ever come up? Harry had been working with him for over four years. Had Malfoy been hiding it, but without his memory, didn’t remember he was? Or why he was? “But how am I supposed to know who might want to… well, I don’t remember my relationship to anyone, so how are we going to look for motivation?”

“Well, your healer told me that your mind just knew you went to Hogwarts because you knew so much about it. So, let’s try to figure out who you know a lot about and go from there. Try to think of the person you can tell me most about.”

Draco rested his chin on his hand and stared at the opposite wall. “Well, other than my family,” he began slowly, “I know a lot about Pansy Parkinson, um…Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, but I know Crabbe’s dead, so it can’t be him,” Malfoy didn’t seem to be affected by this, possibly because he didn’t know how close they had been. “And Blaise Zabini. I mean, those all make sense because I was a Slytherin, right? I sincerely doubt I would have been friends with Crabbe or Goyle. Idiots,” he snorted and Harry tried not to squirm at the irony. “I know a lot about you, obviously,” he paused and turned to Harry. “I’m really not seeing anyone?”

“Not that you’ve told me about,” Harry replied honestly.

“Then I must not be. Trust me, if I were seeing someone, I would gloat about it.”

“Well,” Harry shifted on his feet uncomfortably, “no one at work really knows you’re gay, so you may not gloat as much as you’d think.”

Draco looked up at him with wide eyes and dropped his hand down to the table. “Merlin…did I out myself to Weasley?”

“No, no,” Harry reassured him, quickly lying for Draco’s comfort. It was starting to become too easy. “Ron already knew.”

“Damn. I guess I have to be more careful about who I tell. Maybe I don’t tell anyone because of the reactions you got.”

“You’ve been a very private person for a long time, especially after the war.”

Draco leaned back in his seat now. “Harry, can you tell me about…myself?”

Harry sat down across from him. “I’ll do my best. What do you want to know?”

“Anything. The important things. The little things.”

“You were the Slytherin seeker since second year,” Harry didn’t mention he likely bought his way onto the team. “You were pretty good.”

“But not as good as you,” Draco stated, staring at him with his intense gray eyes, which made Harry uncomfortable.

“How do you know that?”

“Because, no one was as good as you.” Harry really hoped he wasn’t blushing. Draco had said that so openly and so matter-of-factly. He really was going to kill him if he ever got his memory back.

“Umm…potions was your favorite class. You were a good student.”

“But not as good as Granger.”

Okay, now that was a bit weird. He had taken the first comment as a compliment towards him, but now it seemed like the comments were focused on Draco’s own shortcomings. “Well, no, but-“

“And I’m single?”

“Well, right now, but-“

“Have I even lost my virginity?”

Harry was thrown off by this question and stammered out an answer. How could he ask that so nonchalantly after everything? “N-not that I know of.”

“Of course,” he scoffed, but his eyes widened minutely and his eyes suddenly looked around rapidly as if trying to find something to fixate on. His breathing hitched and became shallow. “That means my first time-“

“Well, you were very distracted during sixth and seventh years!” Harry protested, trying to avoid a panic attack, and Draco clung to his words as if they were lifeline.

“Distracted with what?” He asked, but before Harry could answer, his eyes widened considerably in realization. “The Dark Lord was in my house. I thought maybe I was a prisoner, but my father was a Death Eater. That means I-“ he didn’t finish his sentence before he reached down and yanked the sleeve up on his left arm, revealing his faded Dark Mark. He jumped up from his seat and backed against the wall as if he could get away from it. “No,” he gasped. “No! But I’m an auror!” He dropped his sleeve and dug his nails into his scalp, nearly dislodging the hat he was wearing. He avoided Harry and ran out of the room before Harry could say anything. He followed him, but Draco had already disappeared from the office, likely to the closest disapparation point. He sighed heavily as he stopped by Ron’s desk.

“What happened?”

“Malfoy found out about his affiliation during the war.”

“Oh,” Ron looked back towards the office exit. “You should go find him. I’ll hold down things here. He’s not emotionally stable right now.”

Harry agreed and left the office to floo to the Malfoy Manor. It was the only place he could think of and would likely be the first place Malfoy would go to feel safe. He considered apparating, but he didn’t know if there were wards against it. When he appeared in the fireplace, he didn’t even get to take two steps out before he heard “ _Stupefy!”_ and fell to the ground.

 _“Ennervate!”_ sat up to see Malfoy over him, forehead creased with worry. “I’m so sorry, Harry. Someone came through the fireplace and I just… Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Harry brushed off his concern as he got to his feet. “Head hurts from hitting the ground, but I’ll be fine. You really need to put wards up.”

“There are wards up,” Draco told him, and Harry look at him curiously, rubbing the back of his head. “Father used to have them against anyone, but when I inherited the house, I made sure aurors were allowed in as well.”

“You remember that?”

Draco looked surprised. “Yeah, I do,” he murmured quietly as if he didn’t believe it himself. “I’m sorry I ran off. I realized something that I think is important, by the way,” he started walking away from Harry, clearly trying to cover up his panic from before, so Harry followed. “I just need to confirm. What day did you find me, Harry?”

“Umm…we found you on Tuesday,” he wasn’t sure where this was going, but he was hopeful they’d get some information and grateful to take Draco’s mind off the mark on his arm.

“When I told you I remember getting coffee, but nothing after that, it was a Friday. I didn’t realize until I got home and my copy of the Prophet said it was Thursday.”

“So, your mind is completely blank from Friday until you woke up on Tuesday?” Actually, this was worse news. Draco didn’t even remember where he’d been when he was attacked.

“I know it’s not good news,” he stopped at his room and looked back at Harry. “I need to change clothes. You just…stay right there,” he opened the door. “Okay? Don’t move.”

“I won’t,” Harry frowned in confusion, and Draco stared at him for a long moment, as if trying to decipher if Harry was lying. When he seemed satisfied, he closed the door quickly and Harry waited patiently outside. He didn’t hear the door lock, which Harry thought was interesting.

After about ten seconds, he heard Draco call: “You still there?”

“Yeah,” Harry responded through the door. “Hey, whose wand are you using?” He asked curiously, when the thought struck him.

“My mother’s,” he replied. “When she died, I kept it around.” Well, that was news. He hadn’t heard anything about Narcissa Malfoy in years. He’d always assumed she’d fled the country, not… Draco opened the door, now in a new outfit, and walked out, clearly not affected by talking about the death of his mother. Had it been long? Or did he not remember them being close? He started down the corridor, “I think looking around here might help me figure out who might have been after me.”

“Shouldn’t we start in your bedroom?” Harry suggested, wondering how long Draco planned to avoid the subject brought up at the office.

“No one is allowed in my bedroom, Potter!” Draco snapped suddenly and turned on him. Then, he frowned, as if he didn’t know what had come over him. “Sorry. I don’t know why I called you that.”

“It’s fine. If you need some time, I can come back. I just-“

“Wanted to check on me, I know,” Draco replied heavily, expression becoming unguarded. “No, you can stay. This place is pretty big.” They walked cautiously in and out of rooms for a while, scanning for anything that might help Draco remember anything about himself. They needed evidence for contacts, friendships, enemies… someone who might want to do this to Draco.

When they made their way into the west wing of the house, Draco stopped at the last door at the end of the corridor. “This was my parents’.” He commented with a slight pull in his voice and reached for the handle, slowly, but when he touched the door, it cracked open slightly. “That’s strange. I’m pretty sure this is usually locked.”

Heart immediately pounding in his chest, Harry took out his wand, just in case. He didn’t expect to find any dark wizards hiding – it was likely Draco had simply forgotten he had unlocked it himself. But, better safe than sorry. Draco saw Harry do this and took out his wand as well. Harry put himself between Draco and the door and pushed it open cautiously. When he entered, the candles on the chandelier above them lit, illuminating the vast room.

“Merlin.”

The room was a wreck. The canopy of the bed had been torn off at the posts, but Harry didn’t see the evidence for the upper half of the bed anywhere. The sheets on the bed were torn and covered in blood, especially in one large pool at the center of the bed. He could see smears of blood on the headboard and all over the rest of the sheet. There were ropes hanging from all four bedposts. Pieces of the bed were on the ground, as was shattered glass and empty picture frames. There was even more blood on the plush, green carpet. There was a very concentrated pool by the fireplace and splatter all along the walls. He turned back to look for Draco, but he was gone. Overcome by panic and driven away by disgust, he rushed away from the scene to find the Slytherin.

He found Draco a few rooms over, vomiting into a toilet. Harry pulled out his phone quickly. “Ron, I think we found the primary crime scene. Send aurors and healers,” he said bluntly, not even waiting for a response before he knelt beside Draco and grabbed a towel from beside the bath. “You’re going to be okay.”

Draco turned around from the toilet when he stopped throwing up and wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck, sobbing uncontrollably into his chest. He pulled Draco close to him and stroked his back, murmuring platitudes that meant nothing into his ear. They stayed like that until the healers came to take Draco back to St. Mungo’s. After giving him a Calming Draught and transporting him, Harry went back out into the hallway to find the aurors had found the crime scene on their own. He walked into the room behind Ron, who glanced back at him, sad and tired.

“Looks like it’s the primary crime scene,” he said, watching aurors who specialized in analyzing crime scenes work. “All the blood seems to be Malfoy’s. We’re checking everything, but whoever did this seemed to clean up anything he would have left.” Harry felt guilty when he saw how many people were working on the crime scene – now so many more people would know what happened to Draco. Who was to say they wouldn’t tell others?

“Why not clean up the whole scene, then?” Harry asked.

“No time? Maybe he wanted to admire his work?”

“Or maybe he wanted Malfoy to,” Harry speculated, trying to keep his mouth from going dry as his eyes flitted over the once opulent bedroom. “If he obliviated Malfoy, this would be the way to make Malfoy relive what happened to him.”

“They used slicing charms on the bedposts. Probably vanished the canopy and all the pictures of Malfoy’s family. Unless the Malfoys had a habit of keeping empty picture frames in their room,” he indicated the frames with a vague wave of his hand. “The fireplace is hooked up to the floo network, but outgoing only. They couldn’t have entered from there. So we looked at the door,” he walked over and pointed to the door jam where there was some cracked wood and a small amount of blood. “It’s a handprint – Malfoy’s,” he positioned his hand over it without touching it.

“He was trying to get away,” Harry said in realization, as the handprint indicated Malfoy was facing out of the door.

“Either he got away once he was in, or his attacker hurt him on the way and Malfoy was grabbing the doorway to keep from being pulling into the room.”

An even more sickening realization dawned on Harry. “Malfoy was awake when this was done to him.” There had been some small consolation that Malfoy might have been unconscious for the ordeal. It was a tiny chance, but he had been hopeful. If Malfoy’s memory came back… Any number of potions or spells could put Malfoy to sleep. It was the easier way, but the attacker seemed to have wanted Malfoy to be awake.

Ron nodded solemnly and turned on his heel, pointing to the bed. “Yeah. The attacker used a binding charm – feet at the end of the bed and arms at the headboard, one limb per bed post. We’re not sure if he was on his stomach or back yet. We haven’t found Malfoy’s clothes or wand, either, so we don’t know when in the process those were discarded. They may have been vanished or the attacker kept them as keepsakes,” he stood on the fireplace side of the bed. “He was freed from his restraints with a slicing charm. We think he tried to get away again,” he pointed to some bloody handprints on the nightstand. “Probably reaching for something to protect himself,” he suggested. “And then was dragged,” he pointed to the drag marks on the floor leading towards the fireplace, “and beaten there,” he pointed to the second blood pool.

“But there are no drag marks out.”

“He may have been levitated.”

“Why drag him when he tried to escape then levitate him to dispose of the body? In fact, why did he release Malfoy at all from his bindings? It would have been easier to keep him that way.”

“Maybe he wanted to see Malfoy fight for his life,” Ron shrugged. “Malfoy would do better at analyzing what happened.”

“Ron!” Parvarti approached Ron holding a piece of the bedpost in her hands carefully. “Prints have been wiped clean,” she said simply and Harry peered around Ron to get a better look at it. It was about as long as the tips of Parvarti’s fingers to her elbow and sharp on both ends from the asymmetrical slicing charm. One end was coated in blood to halfway down the post.

“Oh god,” Harry closed his eyes, trying to will the images away.

“How did he get in?”

“Umm…” Harry took a deep breath, clearing his mind. “I don’t know if you can apparate in, but Malfoy has wards on the floo. They…they let in aurors.”


	4. Part Four

Harry and Ron were at St. Mungo’s a few hours later to interview Malfoy again. “I said I’m fine,” Draco scoffed, waving the healers away. “I don’t need any more Calming Draught! Now, I would like to go home!”

“You can’t go home, Malfoy. It’s a crime scene.”

Draco looked at Ron like he was going to snap at him, too, but he pursed his lips instead. Ron raised his eyebrows in surprise, but, thankfully, didn’t say anything. “Well, where am I supposed to stay?”

“You could take a room in a motel or rent a flat-“

“I don’t know any of those places are safe!”

“Malfoy Manor isn’t safe, either.”

“Draco can stay with me,” Harry offered and then shot a questioning look at Draco, who nodded slowly.

“Yeah. I’ll stay with Harry.”

“Malfoy, what are the wards like on Malfoy Manor?”

“You mean who can get in?” Draco asked. “You can’t find the Manor by non-magical means. Inaccessible to muggles. No apparating on the grounds. There’s a point for apparition just outside the gate. Umm…the floo is open to healers, aurors, and family friends.”

“Well, that narrows it down considerably,” Ron said. “Think you can tell us the names of those family friends?”

“Ummm… My father had a log book of who was allowed in. It changed over the years. Maybe I kept track in it, too?” Draco suggested. “It’s on the mantle in the dining room.”

Ron disappeared to retrieve the log book while Harry took Malfoy down to the Floos, with the permission of the healers. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he said and apparated to Ron and Hermione’s home. He got Hermione to write down the address of his home for Draco.

“Harry, Ron told me what happened to Malfoy-“

“I can’t talk right now, Hermione,” he kissed her cheek. “I have to take my wards down to let Malfoy in.”

“All right, but I want to talk to you later.”

He promised he would and floo’ed home. He changed the wards and used the floo to go back to the ministry to find Dracowaiting on him. “Hey,” he greeted Draco, who jumped and turned to him.

“What was that all about?” He seemed sour at having to wait. Harry handed him the paper and Draco raised his eyebrow at him. “Are you kidding me? A Fidelius charm? Damn, Harry. You’re paranoid.”

Harry shrugged. “Enemy number one for Death Eaters.” He stepped into the Floo first with his home in his mind. “Potter’s Place.”

He walked out of his living room fireplace and stepped away to wait for Draco to appear. He did rather quickly and examined Harry’s home with a critical eye. It was small and cozy. He wasn’t a big spender and he preferred having a small home – call it paranoia, but he liked a place he could thoroughly search within minutes. His living room was small, with a comfy sofa and armchair, both a red that reminded him of the Gryffindor common room. He had a small television that he liked to watch at the end of a long work day. He had a worn, plush rug in the center of the room. In the corner there was a small dining table with two chairs - only one got any use. A doorway that led to a small kitchen was near the table and near the television set was a corridor. There was a small bathroom and guest room on the first floor. The guest room was mostly used as a study, but he had a bed for friends that would come over. A staircase with a squeaky step Harry put in purposely led up to his bedroom and bathroom.

“Potter’s Place?” Draco said skeptically.

“Malfoy Manor?” Harry retorted and Draco pursed his lips as if to say “got me there.”

“This place is smaller than my closet.”

“Don’t exaggerate,” Harry scoffed, though he wouldn’t put it past Draco to have an enormous closet. “You can stay in my guest bedroom. It’s down the hall,” he pointed.

“Where’s your room?”

“Upstairs.”

Draco brushed past him and walked up the stairs. “Where are you going?” Harry called after him. Draco was walking around in Harry’s room. When he got there, he opened up Harry’s small closet. “What are you doing?”

“I’m curious if your closet is as bad as your clothes or if you have…closeted good taste,” Draco taunted and then pulled something out, smiling. Of course Draco would find _that._ That stupid, stupid shirt he’d been suckered into buying by that damned ex of his. Anthony was a good guy, but he was always making Harry uncomfortable. He was just so needy. And constantly showering Harry in affection. It was a dark green silk shirt that was “oh so perfect for his eyes” “What is this? Looks like I left one of my shirts over, Harry. You sure we weren’t more than friends?” He teased and Harry was almost relieved Draco thought the shirt was his.

“Of course!” Harry grabbed the shirt from him and put it back in the closet.

“Then you’re a shirt stealer?”

“You can have it back. You’re not going to be able to go to your house for a few days at least, so you’ll need a change of clothes.”

“My house. Right,” he looked down and pulled the piece of paper Harry had given him out of his pocket. “Incendio,” he murmured and watched it burn. “Sorry you had to do that again.”

“Hm?”

“Having to give me the location of your house again because of the amnesia,” Draco wasn’t looking at him now. “It’s really annoying, I’ll tell you that,” Draco forced a smile as his gaze returned to Harry’s face.

“Look, Draco, we’re going to find this guy,” he reached forward to touch him, but Draco visibly flinched and backed away. “Sorry,” Harry said immediately. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“I think I need to lie down,” Draco disappeared from Harry’s room and the guest room door was closed when Harry returned to the first floor. He sighed and went to sit in the living room to wait on him. He flipped on the television just as his fireplace roared to life.

“Harry,” Ron wiped the soot away from his robes as he walked into the living room. Harry stood to greet him.

“What is it?”

“Is Malfoy here?”

“In the guest room, yeah. Do I need to come back to work?”

“Actually, I think it would be safer to continue the investigation here,” Ron sat the file in his hand on Harry’s table. What was Ron on about?

“Ron, what’s wrong? What happened?”

Ron sat down at the table and Harry slowly slid into his preferred seat across from him. “Turns out Malfoy’s been a fucking paranoid ponce since the war,” he held up a small journal. “He was very thorough documenting who was allowed through the wards. We were right about that little lack of a personal life. The only people allowed into the Malfoy Manor? Healers and aurors.”

That was usually the standard warding system – to let aurors or healers get to someone if they were in danger or injured. But everyone had people that were excluded from their wards. “So…that means…” Harry was staring at Ron wide eyed when he finished the sentence for him.

“If they used the Floo, unless Malfoy let in his attacker-“

“Not likely,” Harry added, since Draco didn’t seem to have any friends.

“-it means an auror or healer did this to him.”

“Oh god, Ron,” Harry said heavily, running his hands over his face.

“I know. I don’t want to believe anyone in our office did it, but that would make the most sense. Malfoy degrades people every day he’s at work-“

“He doesn’t degrade anyone, Ron,” Harry couldn’t help but feel defensive of Draco now, “it’s just how he protects himself.”

“Well, his ‘protection,’” he said with air quotes, “could have been what got him attacked. Someone may have taken one of his insults personally. Regardless, aurors are the people he interacts with daily. Maybe one of them is mad about a Death Eater working with aurors.”

“Okay,” Harry conceded. He couldn’t believe this. One of their friends? One of their coworkers? One of them was capable of this? One of them could use a sharp piece of wood to- “Who are the best suspects?”

“I can help you rule them out,” Malfoy was standing at the doorway, looking pale, but steady.

“Malfoy, you don’t remember much about your personal interactions-“

“No, but I could psychoanalyze them, Auror Weasley,” Harry was surprised he could take that tone with Ron and still offer him a title of respect. “I can tell you the people I think are most capable of something like this,” seeking to join them, he pulled the armchair close to the table. He almost sat on the arm of the chair, but quickly changed his mind and sat several inches lower than Ron and Harry. “Can I see the list of people who work with me?” He accepted the paper from Ron and skimmed it while Harry tried not to laugh at the odd sight. “We can eliminate all the women.”

“How do you know, Draco? You were raped with-“ Harry stopped himself almost immediately and Draco looked up at him blankly.

He averted his gaze, like he was fighting to say something and said in a slow, steady voice, “I know that a foreign object was used, Harry. But I also know that wasn’t all I was raped with,” his voice was even, but when he looked up at Harry, he could see the terrified look in his eyes. He quickly answered the question Harry was about to ask. “I just know, okay?”

“What else do you just know?” Ron asked suspiciously and Draco took a deep breath.

“I know I was in the drawing room when he entered. I still feel safe in my bedroom and the drawing room is the only other place I spend any time in at nights. Looking at that room makes me sick to my stomach.”

“Okay, no women,” Harry said slowly, trusting Draco’s instinct on that. “What else?”

“Not Longbottom or Macmillan. Sure you’re relieved to hear that.”

“Honestly, Malfoy, I’m not happy to hear anyone in our department could do this. But it seems the logical conclusion.”

Draco read over the list for a while before leaned back in his seat. “Terry Boot, Dennis Creevey, and Cormac McLaggen,” he offered simply.

“Dennis?!”

“I’m just telling you who I think capable, Weasley. Creevey would most certainly hate Death Eaters. Look, I’m not saying it’s him. It might not even be one of the three, but it wouldn’t hurt to look into them.”

Ron left soon after Draco’s proclamation to check out the alibis of the three Draco had suggested, though he said he would be doing so discreetly. Harry got Draco pajamas from his closet, which Malfoy considered disdainfully before going to Harry’s connecting bathroom to change. They had a late dinner together that almost felt like a sleepover considering they were both eating cereal in their pajamas. Harry really didn’t have much food since he wasn’t home a lot and Draco didn’t complain much.

Draco was sprawled on the couch and Harry was curled up in his favorite armchair with his bowl of cereal. “So, Harry, when did you know you were gay?” Draco asked suddenly. Harry choked on the cereal he had in his mouth. “Sorry. I know you must have told me before. It’s just…another blank in my head.” Harry watched Draco pick a marshmallow from the milk, trying not to look curious.

“Well,” Harry swallowed, “I didn’t know until I was much older. I was nineteen.”

“You didn’t know until you were nineteen? But I thought we were friends in school because we were both gay,” seeing Draco’s brow furrowed in confusion, Harry hurried to cover up his lie.

“Well, you were right, we did bond over being gay, but that was after Hogwarts. We weren’t very close during our school years.”

“Oh,” Malfoy said slowly and Harry continued talking to distract him from the holes appearing in his story.

“It was one of those things where, in retrospect, I should have known sooner. I was just so busy during our school years, I just assumed straight until proven gay, you know. I didn’t need to be gay on top of everything else. I just assumed any girl I looked and thought was pretty I had to be attracted to and any guy I thought was good-looking just had to be in an appreciative ‘wish I looked like that’ way. I mean, I should have known. Kissing Cho Chang was more uncomfortable than anything else. Same with Ginny,” he looked over to see Draco listening intently. It actually felt good to talk about it. He could never tell Ginny, Ron, or Hermione how he truly felt about it. They wouldn’t understand. And they certainly wouldn’t pull a face when Harry talked about how he didn’t like kissing Ginny. Not a sympathetic one, at least. “I didn’t realize how uncomfortable it was until I kissed a guy. I just assumed all kissing was that way and you get used to it. I also never…had any urge to go further than a kiss. Ginny wanted to, but I always found a way to get out of it.”

“Told her you were too tired, Harry?” A mischievous grin appeared on Draco’s lips.

“It was easier to just make her think I was old fashioned.”

“Oh, the waiting until marriage excuse.”

Harry shrugged. “I fancied Blaise Zabini during sixth year.”

“Blaise,” Draco repeated skeptically, looking up from his cereal.

“Only physically! He was still a right prat. Didn’t realize it was attraction  until much later. I just…noticed how good looking he was all the time. But, I mean, I didn’t even seem to be interested in girls until I was fourteen….and even then…” he shook his head. “Anyways, when I was nineteen, I found myself attracted to this bloke…” he chuckled sheepishly. “And I mean, there was real chemistry there. I just couldn’t ignore it. I met him at a charity event. Some friend of a friend,” he waved his hand. “But I spent months trying to figure things out. Finally told Ginny and some of my friends. Never got to date that guy, but I dated Anthony Goldstein shortly after that.”

“Ugh. Why would you date that Ravenclaw moron? I can’t believe he’s gay! Gives us a bad name.”

“Okay, it wasn’t my best decision,” Harry laughed. “I could only stand him for a few months. Drove me crazy. He worshipped me – we never argued because he would always just agree with me, constantly told me how sexy and amazing I was when I just wanted an equal, relaxed relationship… I just wanted a guy who could tell me when I screwed up who doesn’t admire me like some kind of celebrity.”

“I think I’ve known all my life,” Draco responded after a long silence, smiling a bit. “But…my father… he was…” the smile faded and he sighed heavily. “My parents were not the type to approve of being gay. Continue the family line sort of thing, you know,” he sat his cereal down and pulled his knees to his chest. “Purebloods are very concerned about lines dying out, so there’s another layer of homophobia among them. And considering my father was intolerant of just about everything…” he shook his head. “I imagine I must have tried to hide it for a long time.”

“I didn’t know when we were in school,” Harry said cautiously. “I always thought you were with Pansy Parkinson.” Draco made a horrified face at this.

“Oh Merlin, I didn’t!” Draco looked so appalled, Harry couldn’t help but laugh.

“’fraid so.”

“That girl was a troll! Did you see her?! I should have better taste for my beard,” Draco kicked his legs out and leaned back against the couch again. “I didn’t take her to the Yule Ball, did I?” When Harry made a face again, Draco threw his head back. “No! You’re killing me! The only ball Hogwarts ever had and I took that pig!”

“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think? It wasn’t exactly my favorite Hogwarts memory, either. It was mostly a disaster. Ron spent most of the time griping about Hermione and I was moping because I couldn’t take the person I wanted as well. You know, Draco, if you’re so concerned about taking dates to balls, the ministry holds a charity ball every year.”

“Yeah, like I would be welcome there,” Draco scoffed. “And apparently I don’t have enough of a social life to even find a date to bring.”

“You and me both.”

“I just don’t understand why I’m not out,” Draco reached up, as if to run his hand through his hair, and found his hat there instead. He flinched slightly and brought his hand back down to his lap. It took him a few seconds to regain his composure. “I mean, father’s in Azkaban and mother’s dead.” Draco seemed to get lost in his own thoughts. Harry took a moment to look at him – _really_ look at him. It was odd. He felt like he hadn’t ever done so. Malfoy was very thin – the kind of thin that spoke of coffee-only diets and little sleep. Harry had been more solid since leaving school – takeout food being offset by the amount of footwork he did. But Malfoy was skinny from neglecting to eat, not from activity. His injuries had been healed, but he still kept his arms and legs close to him, all of which looked too thin in Harry’s pajamas. Harry’s eyes moved from Draco’s spindly thighs to his bare feet which were buried between the couch cushions for warmth. And Harry’s mind hadn’t changed – he really did have beautiful hands.

“Don’t get hung up on this,” Harry tried to advise him. “If you don’t like it, it’s easy to change.”

Draco brought his head up and locked eyes with Harry. “I don’t think you understand. I’m learning about myself and every last part just makes it worse. This is not the life I want. I want friends and a boyfriend. I want to feel good about myself. I want to be a hero, not some…monster,” he sighed heavily. “No offense to you, Harry. You’re a good friend. But…one friend? And it doesn’t sound like I’ve ever even dated a guy. How can I date anyone after this? I can’t even stand someone touching me.”

“For now, Draco. Look, you’ll find someone patient and who likes you.”

“Everyone at the office knows about what happened now, don’t they?” At this question, Harry shifted uncomfortably. “If I say I’m gay now, people will point fingers at me and say I wanted it.”

“Draco,” Harry got up from his chair and sat on the sofa next to him, “it isn’t your fault.”

“I know that!” Draco snapped back, pulling his legs away from him.

“Draco, anyone who looks at this will know you didn’t want to be attacked. You were almost killed. Gay or not, no one can say you wanted this.”

Draco’s mood shifted suddenly and he just seemed… worn out. “Sorry. I sound so stupid.”

“Not at all,” Harry told him.

There was a long silence and Draco seemed to want to change the subject when he finally said, “Did I ever beat you at Quidditch?”

“Well… you got pretty close. You were a good player.”

“Oh, don’t patronize me,” Draco hissed.

“I wasn’t!” Harry protested, leaning back into the couch to get comfortable. “There was this time against the Hufflepuff team you pulled a pretty incredible move…” They talked for a while, Harry happy to get Draco’s mind off the attack and onto something as simple as talking about Quidditch moves. It was several hours before Harry stood up. “I need to get to bed if I want to get an early start tomorrow.” Draco nodded and got up from his seat as well. Harry watched Draco walk into the guest room and Harry headed to his own room.

He was asleep quickly after the events of the day, but he didn’t stay that way for long. Harry jerked awake late in the night, but he wasn’t sure what woke him until he heard shouting downstairs. Harry jumped out of bed and rain down the stairs. “Draco!?” He called and ran into the guest room, wand out. Draco was in the far corner, in the comfy blue armchair that had been moved so its back was in the corner. He was screaming and tears were streaming down his face. Harry raced forward and put his hand on Draco’s cheek, but this made him react more violently, so Harry backed off. He turned heel and ran into the kitchen, opening his potions cabinet. He grabbed a vial of calming draught and forced it into Draco’s mouth when he got back in the bedroom. Draco fought back, but Harry backed up immediately after he got him to swallow the potion. It only took a few moments before Draco’s breathing began to even out and his shaking ceased. “Harry?” He asked weakly and Harry knelt next to his chair.

“I’m here, Draco. You were having a nightmare.”

“I must have fallen asleep in the chair,” he sat up straighter and looked around the room worriedly. “I could see everything from this spot.”

“That’s fine. You can sleep wherever you want,” Harry reassured him quietly.

“Harry, get a recorder,” Draco said quickly. “I think I remembered some things.”

Harry jumped up and grabbed the recorder from the desk in his room he used for work. He tapped it with his wand and nodded. “Okay, Draco. Go ahead.”

“I-I was in the drawing room,” Draco said shakily. “I was…drinking my usual cup of coffee and reviewing the Corner case,” his voice was weak and breathy, as if he was trying to catch his breath. “I thought I heard something. My wand was by my hand, but when the drawing room door opened, I reached for it and was disarmed before I had much time to react. I got up from the chair, but he cast a binding spell. He grabbed me and dragged me down the hall. I struggled to get free and I got one arm out. I tried to stop him, but he started…kicking me. He was kicking me in the stomach and head…” he swallowed. “He dragged me into my parents’ room. He released me from the binding spell, but tied me to the bedposts instead…o-on my stomach. He- he tore my clothes,” his voice was getting smaller and he wasn’t looking at Harry. He pulled his arms and legs closer to him protectively. “And then he….” He took a deep breath “then he raped me.”

“Did he say anything?” Harry asked quietly and Draco nodded slowly.

“He kept telling me to tell him I liked it. To tell him how good he was. But I wouldn’t. I just…I just begged him to get off me,” tears were started to stream down his face. “Then he got mad. He got off and pieces of the canopy bed started to fall on me. I tried to see what he was doing, but I couldn’t. He-“ he choked back a sob, “he said… he said ‘maybe this will satisfy you’ and then…he raped me with something sharp. It felt like he was raping me forever,” he wiped his eyes. “When he finally stopped, I felt so weak. He sliced the bindings and I tried to get my father’s wand from the drawer. But he grabbed me by the hair and dragged me towards the fireplace. He tried to take through there, but he couldn’t. It made him mad again. He turned on me and said it was my fault. That I made him do it. He used slicing charms on my hair and said it was for my own good. He said I had to stay still and he held me down. Once-once he was done with my hair,” he stammered, “he repeated that he was doing it for my own good and started slashing me with spells and he started kicking and punching me. Then he grabbed my arm an-and smashed my face into the brick of the fireplace and…then it was all black.”

“Draco,” Harry said softly after a few moments and the Slytherin looked at him for the first time since he started recounting what happened. “Draco, did you see who did this to you?” Draco nodded, his lips pressed tightly closed. “Who?”

“In my dream it was Lord Voldemort.”


	5. Part Five

“At least now we have a victim statement,” Harry was saying in his living room.

“But how accurate is it, Harry? I mean…we know You-Know-Who isn’t the man responsible.”

“Everything he told us was completely consistent with our findings – both from the crime scene and the healers. I think his mind recalled the event accurately, but Draco sees this man as a monster and who better to play the part of a monster than Voldemort?”

“Draco?” Ron’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, but Harry waved him off.

“What have you found so far?”

“Dennis Creevey has an airtight alibi. He was working an illegal potions sting operation all night.”

“Terry and Cormac?”

“Terry says he was at home alone sleeping and I could fly a broom through the holes in Cormac’s alibi.”

Harry paced the room. It was early in the morning – he’d contacted Ron as soon as he woke up, so he was still in pajamas, though Ron was dressed in robes. “So that narrows it down to two if we’re not barking up the wrong tree.”

“Where’s Malfoy now, Harry?”

“I gave him a Sleeping Draught. He’s in the guest bedroom.”

Ron smirked a little. “You’re the one taking care of the victim and I’m hunting down the criminal. You’re doing a good job, though. Just…Harry…don’t get too close.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know you want to help him. But you’re heading down a dangerous road. You know, this whole memory thing,” he said in a low voice. “You can’t keep up that lie forever.”

“I won’t have to,” Harry said and sat down in the seat across from Ron.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, Ron, I actually like Draco. He’s not so bad. He’s actually kinda funny and, you know, Ron,” Harry frowned at his friend’s expression, “I don’t have any gay friends. You know, you, Hermione, Ginny…you’re all great. But there are things I can’t talk to any of you about. I like having someone to talk to now.”

“You’re not going to start dating him now, are you?”

“No! Hell no!” Harry said quickly. “He’s not so bad, but he’s still Malfoy.”

“Funny, I thought he was Draco now.”

Harry frowned at this and shook his head at Ron’s attitude. He knew Ron was a little miffed Harry wasn’t going to be an official Weasley and no one would ever match up to Ron’s sister. But it was still off-putting whenever he expressed any interest in a guy for Ron to get that look on his face. The look that said “my sister’s not good enough for you, but you’re dating this asshole?” And Harry wasn’t even interested in Malfoy romantically. “Ron, please. I’m allowed to have other friends.”

“I think you’re letting yourself get caught up, mate,” Ron frowned. “Look, I know how it is. Malfoy’s a victim with no friends or family, so you try to fill that void. You’re a good person and you feel bad for him. There’s nothing wrong with that, but you shouldn’t be his friend out of some sense of pity or obligation.”

“I’m not,” Harry was exasperated with Ron. Sure, it had started out that way, but why couldn’t Ron believe he liked Malfoy as a person? He’d made bad decisions in his life and he was a right git, but there were actually good qualities to him.

“Auror Weasley,” Draco walked into the living room, greeting the auror, still dressed in Harry’s pajamas. Ron raised his eyebrows suspiciously at Harry, who frowned at the insinuation. He walked past them and went into the kitchen. “Harry, you don’t have any coffee!” He called.

“Um. No,” Harry said apologetically and Draco returned to the living room, looking disgruntled, before he conjured some into an empty mug and grumbled about it not being as good.

“Any news, Auror Wealsey?”

“Creevey has an airtight alibi, so we’re going to look closer into Boot and McLaggen.”

“What are their alibis?”

“Boot was home alone and McLaggen says he was running errands, but we can’t track down anyone who saw him.”

“McLaggen’s your best bet. Boot’s been having an affair with Astoria. I’m willing to bet he was with her.”

“Astoria…Greengrass? His wife’s sister?”

“Yeah. So bring in McLaggen to interrogate him,” Draco addressed Ron and then turned to Harry. “We should get dressed, then.”

“You’re going in today?”

“Yes,” as Draco left the room, he heard Ron mutter “git.” Harry was surprised Draco had gone up to his room. He took the green shirt from the closet and took a pair of Harry’s trousers. He walked into Harry’s bathroom, so Harry changed in his room. He was, thankfully, dressed when Draco opened the bathroom door. “Shirt’s a little big,” Malfoy commented, but seemed perfectly satisfied with the clothes. “Must have lost weight.”

Harry didn’t say anything as they returned downstairs and flooed to the ministry. They walked to the auror’s office and found Ron, who was waiting outside the interrogation room. “McLaggen’s in there. Are you sure you want to be here?” He asked Malfoy, who nodded. “All right. I’ll go in first.” When Malfoy watched, usually one of the partners would stay outside and wait for advice on how to handle the suspect.

“Why am I here, Ron? Did Fletcher guy press police brutality charges? Because I used just enough force.”

“No. This is about where you were on Tuesday night.”

McLaggen folded his arms over his chest and leaned back. “I already told you. I ran some errands and then went home.”

“We couldn’t find someone to verify that,” Ron said calmly.

“You think some shop clerk is going to remember me?” McLaggen scoffed. “Did Malfoy accuse me of anything?” He leaned forward in his chair, furrowing his brow.

“No, though his memory seems to be coming back quickly, so he might have something to tell us soon.”

“Good. Then he can clear me. I can’t believe you guys think I would hurt another auror.”

“Really? I don’t ever remember you referring to Malfoy as an auror. I heard a lot of things from you, but never auror. ‘Death Eater,’ ‘Slytherin ponce,’ ‘Voldemort’s bitch.’ Funny, none of those sound like auror to me.”

McLaggen ran his hands over his face and let out a long breath. “Okay, so I didn’t like the guy. Doesn’t mean I’d hurt him. Everyone calls him that stuff behind his back. Not just me.” Harry saw Draco’s lips draw into a thin line.

“Harry, make him mad,” Draco told him. “Try accusing him of being gay. I want to see how he reacts.”

Now that felt normal. That was how his interactions with Draco had gone the past few years. Harry liked it when Draco got that professional tone in his voice. He walked into the room and McLaggen raised his eyebrows at him.

“You’re actually doing a full interrogation? Is Malfoy behind the mirror?” He looked at them skeptically.

“Why? You interested in Malfoy?” Harry snapped back, standing while Ron sat.

“What are you talking about?”

“Did he reject you, McLaggen? Just couldn’t stand just looking anymore? You had to do something about it?”

“No!” McLaggen’s face contorted into disgust.

“You knew his ward would let aurors into his house!”

“No! I didn’t touch him!”

“You wanted him, McLaggen! So you broke into his house and you raped him!”

“No!”

“He didn’t like it! So you raped him with a bedpost!”

“NO!”

“What’s wrong? Couldn’t find any boys who wanted you?”

“I’m not gay!” McLaggen slammed his fists down on the table. “Malfoy is the faggot! Not me!”

“Is that it, then? He was asking for it?” Ron asked from his seated position. “So you gave it to him, right? You get it, don’t you, Harry? I mean, you’re gay, too.”

“Oh yeah, I get it,” Harry agreed in an airy tone. “Boys just don’t know better these days. They think they’re too good for you. Turn you down when you try to be nice. So why not just skip asking?”

McLaggen’s face was turned red and he said through gritted teeth, “No. That’s not it.”

 “What is it? Did you have to teach him a lesson for being gay? Punish him? Punish him for what he did during the war?”

“NO! You don’t understand!” McLaggen spat at them. “I’m not gay! But Malfoy, he-“ he clenched his fists and avoided eye contact, rocking back and forth. “He doesn’t belong here, you know. This shouldn’t have even happened,” he wiped his hand over his face. “Look, I see him almost every day. I barely get any time to myself. You know what life as an auror is like. I don’t have time for girls or dates.”

“There are female aurors,” Ron pointed out and McLaggen glared at him.

“You don’t get what I’m saying. I’m saying I was frustrated. Sure, there are female aurors, and some of them are attractive. But they’re good people. They don’t need punishment…” he took a deep breath. “You all think Malfoy’s a good guy now. But he’s not. Oh, he’s not with the Death Eaters, but he wants to destroy the people who put his father away. That’s why he dresses and acts like that, you know.”

“Like what?”

“I’m a straight guy. I’ve never been interested in guys. But Malfoy. Malfoy would flip his blonde hair and he has that perfect ass,” Cormac chuckled and smirked. “I’m sure you’ve noticed, Harry,” he pointed at him knowingly and then knocked on the table. “And those long legs and his neck…”

“I personally like his hands,” Harry raised his eyebrows at Cormac, whose eyes brightened that someone might understand him. “So he made you feel things for men-“

“Not men, just him.”

“So…what? You couldn’t have that?”

“I am _not_ gay and Malfoy was not going to mess that up. _Malfoy._ A Death Eater. How many people do you think he’s killed? So, I went to go teach him a lesson. You have to understand. I was just going to talk… maybe knock him around a bit. I just wanted to discourage him from coming around. From dressing like a rent boy. And then I saw the house he stayed in. He’s living in some kind of mansion while good people – families – are stuck in one room flats in slums. I had to kick him around. He didn’t deserve the life he had. It would have been fine, but then he tried to get away. Like he didn’t deserve what he was going to get, like he didn’t want to be punished. So,” he raised his eyebrows, speaking matter-of-factly, “I gave him what was coming to him. And you know what he did? He rubbed against me. He was _teasing_ me. Like he always did! He had to learn what he gets for doing that.”

“But he didn’t like it?”

Cormac scoffed. “No.”

“And you got angry.”

“Hell yeah, I did. I was good! But Malfoy is just a little slut! So I gave that whore what he deserved!”

Harry slammed his hands down on the table in front of McLaggen. “You raped and nearly killed another human being because he was attractive!”

“Not a human – a Death Eater!”

“You disgust me.”

“Is Malfoy watching?” Cormac smirked and glanced towards the one-way window. “I hope he is. You should have heard his screaming and crying when I made him my little bitch. He was begging me to stop.”

“Well, now Azkaban is going to make you its little bitch,” Ron grabbed him. “Cormac McLaggen, you’re under arrest for the assault, rape, and attempted murder of Draco Malfoy,”

Harry stood up and walked out of the room while Ron summoned handcuffs. Draco was standing near the window, watching Ron arrest Cormac. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah,” he was leaning against the wall and he looked at Harry.

“Come on, let’s get out of here before Ron brings Cormac out,” Harry held his arm out for Draco, as if to touch his back, but not actually doing so. Draco nodded and followed Harry, but they didn’t move quickly enough.

“Hey, Malfoy! Miss me?” He could see Malfoy visibly wince, but he turned around to look at Cormac defiantly. “Came back to beg for more?” He smirked and Ron pushed him past him and Harry. Draco was paler than usual, but he didn’t take his gaze away from Cormac, who watched him until he was shoved out of the room. He was shaking by the time Harry looked back at him.

“Let’s go get a coffee.”

“Not the shit here. Tastes terrible.”

“Okay,” Harry smiled tentatively.

The coffee shop was small and cozy. Harry and Draco took a seat in the far corner, though it wasn’t busy. Harry drank tea instead, but Draco nursed a hot coffee. “At least he’s going to prison. And I’ll talk to Ron – you should be able to go home soon.”

“Would it be a huge problem to stay at your house for a few days?”

“Not at all. You’re welcome any time.”

Draco smiled over his coffee at him, which he was holding with two hands. He looked rather attractive like that, ugly hat or not. “Thank you, Harry.”


End file.
